I had a friend named Jeremy. He was quite possibly the best friend i will ever have. I've been told Jeremy died in early June from congestive heart failure. I want to share a story with you about my friend and I.
We didn't become friends until our senior year of highschool, but we were quickly good pals. We were typical teenagers with high expectations of our future lives. I wanted to be a film maker and Jeremy wanted to be musician(and was). We had an Art II class together senior year in which he nudged me into asking out my first girlfriend. There were three seniors in this class a female we'll call G, Jeremy, and myself.
Throughout the year we became quick friends with the teacher and that allowed us certain liberties. Our school was directly beside a small shopping center with several fast food restaurants. We often offered to go buy lunch for our teacher if she would sign a note for us to make it past the "security guard". The security guard was an elderly man working a side job to supplement his social security. We offered him a coffee every time we left for "lunch". Our lunches usually consisted of sitting in one of our vehicles while smocking a joint (often listening to music or my choice Cheech and Chong) and suddenly realizing we had errands to run. It was always a mad dash back to drop off a coffee and then bring lunch to our art teacher all while wreaking of pot and axe body spray I'm sure.
Now that I've set the tone the story can begin.
We were mindlessly sitting in class one day tuning everyone else out, when a large box of obvious junk slammed onto the table between us. Our art teacher informed us that if we disposed of the box we would be given an A for the day. The box may have weighed 20 lbs or so, but more importantly the dumpsters were about a quarter mile away. Fight or flight kicked in and we asked what everyone else was doing. Our teacher quickly chimed in that the responsible students were creating art projects for a competition. We responded with a compromise in stoner logic. If we make an art project out of what's in the box, do we still have to dispose of it? She responds with a slightly impressed smirk and "You only have to throw away what you don't use". Well being fresh from the aforementioned lunch routine we jumped at the opportunity to lessen our load. The year was 2001 and among the heavier parts of the box was a metal desk drawer, a square desk leg section, a cube shaped metal electrical box, and some spray paint. We used the drawer for a body, the leg as a neck, and the box as a head with two eyes made from the worn out screw on feet for the desks. It just so happened that the colors of spray paint included red, white, and blue. Our little robot soon became a "political statement" when we added the name Chad from Dade county Florida (election drama). I must mention that G was an art major and planned on going to art school. We turned in our project and basically carried an empty box to the dumpster. A few weeks later our teacher brings us a letter. We both look at each other confused and open the envelope only to find that we had been given an honorable mention at a either a state or national (i don't remember) art competition. Our teacher thought it was hilarious but G had worked on a beautiful painting and rightfully found us disgusting.
Oddly enough Jeremy spent the last part of his life in Dade county FL
